


Make All Large Deliveries In The Rear

by fideliant



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, M/M, Object Insertion, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fideliant/pseuds/fideliant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin has a massive knob. Bilbo is uneasy about this. Oh, and there's a wedding in there somewhere too, which would explain the urgent need for some bedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make All Large Deliveries In The Rear

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a prompt at the Hobbit kinkmeme requesting size kink and cultural differences, but because I'm an idiot it ended up not fitting the spirit of the initial prompt (hurr). Still, porn is porn, so enjoy!

In retrospect, the marriage ceremony probably went a bit overboard where food and alcohol were concerned.

Now, hoisted up in Thorin’s arms with his own around Thorin’s neck, Bilbo kept giggling as he was carried to Thorin’s — no, _their,_ now — bedroom. They left behind a trail of marital accessories in their wake — beads, jewels, embroidery — as if to mark out where nobody should think twice about treading for the rest of the night, not unless they did not fear facing the king’s wrath. Bilbo flicked at Thorin’s ear with his fingers and nuzzled his lips into Thorin’s thick beard. “Tonight,” he murmured into the dwarf’s neck.

“Tonight,” Thorin agreed, increasing the length of his strides. His ceremonial robe bunched up around his ankles as he walked, impeding his movement somewhat, but he still managed to maintain a reasonably quick pace. Years of forging across treacherous terrain had probably conditioned the dwarf sufficiently to be able to make his way through anything and everything, Bilbo thought.

“Don’t rush,” Bilbo cautioned. “Dropping me now might just ruin the mood.”

Under Bilbo’s arse, Thorin tightened his arm and heaved upward just once, lifting Bilbo into a hold that promised more security. “Do not be afraid, Bilbo. I will not drop you.”

“Says the guy who almost dropped me off a mountain,” Bilbo teased. While he had already put that behind him, the incident still remained a sour spot with Thorin, who was much more inclined not to forgive himself for ever having done that to Bilbo. The dwarf’s arms tightened around him and a tension crept into his muscular chest, one that Bilbo could feel by virtue of being pressed right up against his body. “You have to let go of that sometime,” he reminded Thorin, stroking his chin lovingly.

Thorin relaxed marginally and nodded, then continued walking.

Once they reached the royal bedchambers, Thorin made a show of kicking open the doors to the bedroom and twirling Bilbo in a circle, much to his protestation. “I’m going to be dizzy, oh!” he squealed, just as Thorin deposited him on the bed.

For a few seconds, Thorin just stared at him with awe on his face, the two of them still wearing most of what had been their ceremonial dress. Thorin was draped in measures of dark furs and silks and jewellery, whereas Bilbo wore what most other gentlehobbits would on their wedding days — a crisp, clean suit with bright colours, and a comfortable waistcoat and vest, though Thorin had insisted on him donning the mithril shirt underneath all that, even as Bilbo felt rather hot for having to wear so many layers. Especially with the way Thorin seemed to be stripping off each and every layer with his hungry, searching eyes.

The dwarf king stepped closer to him such that his knees were against the foot of the bed, pressing one between Bilbo’s legs, which were dangling off the edge. He held Bilbo’s chin and tilted his face up, studying his eyes. Bilbo gulped with equal parts nervousness and anticipation when Thorin licked his lips. “You look so _beautiful_ tonight,” Thorin rumbled.

“Thanks.” A shudder rode over Bilbo’s shoulders. “You too.”

“I have waited so long,” Thorin continued, leaning down to kiss him, just once. “So long for this.”

“How long exactly?” Bilbo whispered against his lips.

“Too long.”

“Since Laketown?”

“Further.” He ducked past Bilbo’s cheek and licked his earlobe. Bilbo felt himself go a bit harder in his pants. “Perhaps even as far back as Hobbiton,” he murmured into his ear.

“Tease.”

“Kings do not tease.” Thorin started to push Bilbo’s suit off him, popping open the buttons on his waistcoat one at a time.

With a laugh, Bilbo unclasped the robe at Thorin’s neck, then stripped off his necklaces and rings and brooches, dropping everything on the floor with metallic pings. Thorin did not seem to mind his jewellery being treated as such, which emboldened Bilbo to go for his crown. It was heavy and glittery and frankly, way too gaudy for Bilbo’s taste, and he threw it on top of the pile that was Thorin’s now-discarded robe. “Won’t be needing that,” Bilbo told him cheekily. He lifted himself off the bed for a while to let Thorin take off his bottoms, his undergarments coming with it, which left him sitting on the bed naked save for his vest and mithril shirt.

Thorin put his hand over Bilbo’s crotch, easily taking his cock and testicles in one large hand, and gave him a gentle squeeze. Heat blossomed over Bilbo’s skin at his touch. “Impressive,” Thorin said as he gave his shaft a small pinch. “You must be very fertile indeed.”

“Thanks again.”

“Especially these.” He cradled Bilbo’s balls tenderly in his palm, massaging the wrinkled skin with his fingers. “Healthy output, no doubt.”

“Um. Thanks?” Now that Thorin was absorbed in his genitals, Bilbo finished undressing himself, balling up his vest and shirt and throwing them aside. He was just a little bit hard from the touching, though he had no doubt that all he needed was a little bit of stroking and cuddling.

“Do you want to do it or do you want me?”

“Do — do what?”

Thorin raised an eyebrow.

“Oh — _oh!”_ Bilbo found himself blushing. It had been a long time since he’d penetrated anyone else, though he supposed the same could be said of Thorin. Not that he would know. He supposed that having Thorin do the honours would be a decent start to their consummation, and he honestly did want to refresh the feeling of being so full, of having flesh and wetness and heat inside him. “You, I guess.”

A wicked smile unfolded on Thorin’s lips as he took off the rest of his clothing. Bilbo helped him get his pants off while Thorin got everything he was wearing on top, but when he got to the undergarments, Bilbo paused. And stared. “Thorin?”

“Mm?”

Bilbo did not know what exactly to say. He could only stare wide-eyed at the bulge pushing into his face. The _incredibly_ large, threatening-looking bulge.

“Is there a problem?” Thorin slipped off his underwear and his cock dangled out, the head already coated with a thin film of precome, and goodness the thing was huge, even though Bilbo suspected it was only slightly erect. He wagered that at its full size, he might still be able to ring it at its widest part with his thumb and forefinger, and even considering that he didn’t have very long fingers, a shot of terror dropped into the pit of Bilbo’s stomach at the prospect of having that pushing deep into him.

Bilbo blinked, then blinked again, trying to keep his breathing under control. He bit his lower lip, hard. “It’s…it’s just — wow, Thorin.”

“I am aware.” The proud look on Thorin’s face only frightened Bilbo even more. “Impressive, is it not? I have been told so by all whom I have made love to.”

Fighting the urge to ask if they were screaming while they said so, Bilbo forced himself to look awed as Thorin stroked a finger down his own length. “That’s…that’s, uh. Well. You’ve made love. With that. To other people.”

Without intending to, the worry coloured his voice, and Thorin picked up on that quickly. “You are afraid?”

“No…” Thinking a little more, yes, it was a tiny bit of fear, of having Thorin’s monstrous cock in his arse, but there was also a part of him — the same part that got him to his feet to put Sting in an orc’s skull — that wondered with a rush of fervor how exactly it would feel like.

Thorin put a knee on the bed and leaned forward, taking Bilbo’s cheek in one hand. “You don’t have to lie to me, Bilbo. We don’t need to do this, if you are adverse to it.”

“No, no,” Bilbo said quickly, grabbing his wrist for comfort. He sighed. “Look, it’s like this, see? I — I haven’t done this in a while, and even then hobbits…we like things small and stuff. Well, not small, per se. I’d say comfortable? Which also applies to sex.” He looked down meaningfully at his own cock, which was way smaller than Thorin’s.

Looking at him, Thorin nodded. “I understand. Would you prefer it if you penetrated me instead? Or if we did something else?”

Bilbo thought for a while, and he shook his head. “I want you to,” he confessed. “Only — it’s just…I don’t know if I can. You know.”

Thorin studied his face, his features melting into a reassuring expression. He kissed Bilbo’s nose, then his lips. “If it makes you feel better, I am well-versed in adequate preparation. Comes with having a large dwarfhood.” He went back to rubbing Bilbo’s cock and balls, his gaze never leaving his face.

Bilbo pulled his mouth into a tight line, aware of the want and temptation rising in his throat. “What do you want?” he asked hoarsely.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Thorin replied, dropping his fingers a bit lower to push gently under his balls, in the direction of his clenched cheeks, which Bilbo squeezed together against how very aroused he was.

“I trust you,” he said finally.

“Are you sure?”

He wasn’t, but Bilbo nodded anyway.

“It may be painful for you,” Thorin warned. “You must tell me immediately if you do not want to go ahead, or if you want me to stop.”

“Yes.” Bilbo reached out to hold Thorin’s cock for the first time, and was struck at its weight in his hand. Granted, it was large, the largest Bilbo had ever seen, though he hadn’t thought he would feel heaviness at holding it. He put a thumb over the head and pushed into the glossy slit, spreading precome over it. He felt Thorin twitch slightly at that and looked up at him to smile.

Thorin descended onto him, pushing Bilbo back into the bed and kissing him passionately; on his cheeks, his lips, his eyelids, everywhere on his face. Slowly growing stiffer, Bilbo kissed back whenever he got the chance, catching hair in his teeth and between his lips, sending prickles over his face. Once Thorin was right on top of him, Thorin reached over to the table by their bed and rummaged around in a drawer. Bilbo heard the pop of a cork, and when he opened his eyes to look, he saw Thorin dribbling a thick, viscous-looking fluid from a bottle over the fingers on his right hand.

“Oil,” Thorin explained to him. “For lubrication. I’m going to prepare you now, so just relax and enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

A slick hand pushed its way down into Bilbo’s groin, leaving beads of oil clinging to the nest of pubic hair around his genitals as it scraped past. Bilbo kept kissing Thorin, moving his knees up to expose himself to Thorin’s fingers, and felt a cool, tantalising digit probing at his entrance. “Relax,” Thorin whispered, pushing it in to the first knuckle, kinking the joint of his finger upward. It was a strange feeling having something intrude into where only things had been coming out for years, though not unfamiliar, and Bilbo’s cock stiffened even more at the breaching.

“Oh,” Bilbo murmured. Thorin was easing the tip of his finger in and out, oiling up his entrance and tracing his hole in small circles before slipping back inside, now to the second knuckle. Initially cold, the oil gradually warmed up inside him, and another finger pressed in gently, with both now thrusting steadily deeper into hot, sensitive flesh.

“Does that feel good?” Thorin rumbled, parting his fingers to stretch the muscle outward.

It was odd and filling and pleasurable all at once, and Bilbo was uncertain upon which one he should be concentrating on, though a groan of assent escaped him. The fingers up his arse wriggled and wormed around, finding spots that Bilbo had long forgotten could be so receptive to the touch of a foreign intrusion. Another groan escaped him; Bilbo lolled his head back onto the pillow and opened his legs wider, pushing down using the muscles in his lower abdomen onto Thorin’s fingers.

“Three, now,” Thorin told him. “Just relax.”

The third finger sank in shallowly, and Bilbo gasped, the burning dilation of his hole too tight to accommodate anything more than two. It withdrew immediately, and Thorin said, “Sorry, sorry,” before returning to a languid massage with the remaining two still inside, pressing repeatedly on his prostate. “Should have prepared you some more.”

“It’s…it’s been a while,” Bilbo said. His breaths were coming out noisily, just a step away from actual panting. On his stomach, his cock was leaking a generous amount of clear precome that glistened in the blond fuzz leading down to his groin. He reached down for it, only for Thorin to snatch at his wrist with his other hand and pin it to his side.

“No,” Thorin said, a devilish smile thinning his lips. “No touching yourself.”

Another try at getting the third finger in was partially successful — it joined the rest, but only halfway. “Breath deeply,” Thorin instructed Bilbo, and as he did his anus lost enough resistance for the cluster of fingers to sink all the way in. “Oh, you’re so tight.”

Bilbo let out the breath in a huff and grinned, feeling his arsehole constrict around the fingers inside him. They were left there for a minute, then Thorin started to move them as much as possible, spreading slowly in an expanding triangle to widen up his passageway. It took a good fifteen minutes of gently, purposeful fingering for Thorin’s fingers to be able to move about reasonably, and by that time Bilbo was simply aching to come.

“How much longer?” he moaned. Thorin’s index finger crooked down onto his prostate, stimulating him yet again. He could feel the resistance his own body was putting up against Thorin’s fingers, and despite himself trying to open himself up to the invasion, he kept clenching onto it beyond his control. Tears of frustration stung his eyes; if anything, it only seemed that they were moving further and further away from their goal.

“Not long now,” Thorin said. He did not seem as concerned nor angry as Bilbo for apparently not being able to get him widened sufficiently, which Bilbo derived some sense of heartening from. If Thorin believed that he was doing just fine, and the dwarf did mention he knew what he was doing, then Bilbo had no cause to doubt him.

What he did doubt, however, was Thorin reaching over to the table again and returning with a long, metal instrument which would resemble a cucumber if not for the squarish, flared base that was attached to one end. “What’s that?” Bilbo asked, a shred of fear returning to him at the sight of the object.

“This goes in first,” Thorin said. “Keeps you nice and open and soft, makes you wider still. It isn’t as big as me, but it will help greatly.”

“Wow.” His mind momentarily left the fingers still prodding in his arse and settled on the thing. It did look like Thorin’s cock, only slightly smaller and shiny, and he supposed that it would give him an idea of what to expect. “Okay. Go on, then,” he mumbled, lying back onto the bed and collecting himself adequately.

“Remember: if there is any pain, you must tell me.” Thorin pulled his fingers out, leaving a damp emptiness behind, on which Bilbo clenched and unclenched his rectum. He moaned with the discomfort of being so vulnerable and exposed, and he shifted his hips up the bed, flinching away from nothing.

The thing was coated with a thick layer of oil, then its tip positioned against Bilbo’s arsehole. It rested there while Thorin said, “Deep breaths, just relax,” and then it slid in slowly. Bilbo could not hold back the gasp as the metal easily entered through his anus, then another cold squirt of oil and it passed deep inside him. Unlike Thorin’s fingers, the object was bitingly cold in comparison and much, much harder to take. Unwillingly, he forced his lower bowels against it, as if to expel it out, but Thorin held it by the base and nudged it back inside, leaving just the base exposed at his buttocks. “You alright?” he asked.

There was sweat matting Bilbo’s hair and on his forehead and chest and buttocks, and he was already panting from the exertion of having something so unyielding and lifeless jammed up his arse, on the verge of actually crying out from it. It was quite painful now, beyond the searing stretch of his anus like it was with just the fingers, now at a point where he could barely feel his thighs and arms and he thought for a wild moment that it would actually tear his arsehole open. He had been buggered before, just never like this. This was so much, much too full, his brain was shrieking at him, and yet he pushed those thoughts down with frantic nods. “M’fine,” he gasped, then bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, resisting the impulse to pound the bed with his fists and beg for Thorin to take it out.

“Only for a minute,” Thorin said soothingly. “Then I’ll come right in.” He was preparing himself now, slicking oil up and down his engorged cock with one hand.

Bilbo’s eyelids fluttered, his mind in a dull fog of pain mixed in with pleasure. “I want — I want,” he murmured. He reached down with a shaking hand and touched the base of the plug, felt it move slightly inside him, and as he was already well-stimulated by all the fingering, the feeling of it was magnified multiple times over. It shifted inside him like something which he could not push out even if he tried, and by goodness he felt like he was trying, what with how he was spasming involuntarily along its length.

“Not long now, I’m ready.” At the base of the object, Thorin put his hand over Bilbo’s and looked at him carefully. “Out,” he said. “When you feel you can. Your pace.”

Understanding this, Bilbo nodded shortly and took several calming breaths. Out was much less pleasurable and painful than in, although as it exited him, he felt horribly hollow, far too distended and unnaturally empty, even more so than he felt after he was freed of Thorin’s fingers. Cold air rushed over his entrance and snapped at hungry nerve endings, shooting jolts of electricity up his lower back and he arched himself off the bed momentarily. Not long afterward, two of Thorin’s fingers were buried within him once more, greedily checking the expanded space left behind, and he made a low, pleased sound. “You’re ready,” he told Bilbo.

Bilbo grinned shakily and went very still, consciously keeping his mind a blank. He thought it would be better not to think of anything at all, lest the suspense made him come even before being penetrated.

“Slowly now,” Thorin grunted, sliding the head of his cock up to his hole. When it was in place, he leaned down to kiss Bilbo one more time. “Again, any pain at all,” he said, the order in his voice imminent.

Bilbo moved his arms up and around Thorin’s neck, pulling him down to initiate another lasting kiss, this time with wet friction and the touching of their tongues. “Are you often this noisy when you bugger someone?” Bilbo whispered against his cheek.

“I have to be. I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone with this, especially not you.”

His cock throbbed obscenely against Bilbo’s quivering hole. “Take me now,” he murmured urgently into Thorin’s beard, shifting closer such that the precome from his cock was nearly oozing into him.

On the next exhale, Thorin pushed in with just the head, and the pain of it started anew. Thorin was markedly larger than the plug, and though he was more pliable, it counted for very little where it came down to sheer size and length. Bilbo could feel his legs go numb and a deep-rooted ache began in his pelvis as Thorin sank in, centimetre by excruciating centimetre, and it simultaneously hurt and pleasured him in a manner that Bilbo could not fathom, perhaps would not for a very long time and certainly not now. He gripped handfuls of bedsheet and held back the scream building in his throat, an intense labour to accomplish as his mouth had fallen wide open and try as he might, he could not regain sufficient control over his own body to close it.

He was burning from the pressure that was swelling up in him, an intense, overwhelming sensation that spread across his groin and into his abdomen. Thorin paused between seconds to ask him if he was doing fine, and with shattered breaths, it was all Bilbo could do to nod feebly. He could feel his heart thrashing against his ribs at an accelerated rhythm, the way it did whenever he perceived danger. At the same time, his face was growing hotter and his breathing started to catch periodically, and Bilbo tried to blink away the pain of being stretched far beyond anything he could have imagined, but failed, and a tortured yelp slipped past his lips.

Immediately, Thorin braced his hands against Bilbo’s shoulders and moved his hips backward. Bilbo grabbed at him blindly, seizing his upper arms to stop him from pulling out. He would have wrapped his legs around Thorin to keep him inside, if he could bear to move them. “Wait…wait,” he babbled. “What — what are you doing?”

“We’re not doing this anymore,” Thorin said firmly. “You’re clearly in pain, and yet you’re not voicing it out; if we keep at it, you might…I might —”

It was suddenly important that Thorin stopped speaking at that point, so Bilbo pushed himself up to shut him up with a kiss. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, controlling his panic. “I shouldn’t have lied, but I do — I want this. I want you to.”

“But I’m hurting you. I don’t…I can’t —”

“Just a bit.” Bilbo traced a finger down his beard, twirling at its tip. He smiled. “It’s worth it. I promise.”

A hesitant look flickered across Thorin’s face, and then he took a deep breath and recommenced pushing himself steadily back into Bilbo.

To steel himself, Bilbo turned his thoughts to the immediacy of having Thorin seated in his arse, to the kisses Thorin was lowering onto his face and chest, and how he kept telling Bilbo that he was doing well and to sound off if it did honestly become too painful for him. Slowly, Bilbo grew accustomed to being stuck and violated as he was continually stretched open and Thorin dug deeper; the hurt was still there, but he swallowed it down with increasing ease and alternated his clenches with each press forward, which filled Bilbo with both satisfaction and terror.

“Beautiful,” Thorin groaned into his mouth. “So…beautiful.” He punctuated his last word with another thrust, drawing a sharp whine from Bilbo.

“You’re — oh, ugh — not so bad yourself,” Bilbo gasped. He pushed himself back down and sank his hips as low as he could go, enveloping more of Thorin’s massive member into the tightness of his arse, and it was still so cramped for all of their preparation. Thorin straddled his hips, and with his last thread of conscious control Bilbo anchored him there by closing his thighs around Thorin, preventing him from shifting about as he strove toward completing the penetration.

“Almost there,” Thorin whispered. “Can you — are you okay?”

Delirious, Bilbo nodded with his eyes brimming with tears and his lip held between his teeth so tightly he could almost taste the blood. He did not dare to move a muscle in his body, much less anything below his abdomen, fearful of what would happen if he did. “Stop,” Bilbo cried out, when Thorin moved in slightly more and he felt that it was as far as he could take; he just knew somehow that any further and Thorin would truly start to hurt him. “That’s…that’s enough.”

A noise of pure marvel rose from Thorin’s throat. “Incredible,” he whispered. He too was sweating a great deal, and much of it was dripping down his face and arms and chest hair. “This is…you’re — gods, you’re so tight around me.”

With heaving breaths, Bilbo clenched his arsehole in intervals, prompting Thorin to start fucking him without words. Thorin rolled his hips in an upward motion, shifting his cock inside Bilbo’s tiny body. Bilbo whimpered at every weighted thrust, screwing his face up as he treaded between discomfort and pain and pleasure, tangling up into a frantic mess with the love he had harboured for Thorin for so very long. Like Thorin, he had fantasised about being in this moment in his more unflattering moments, never thinking it could actually transpire. “Touch me,” he said quaveringly.

Thorin closed his hands around Bilbo’s soft, fat cock and worked it with twisting pulls at an attempt to get it to harden once more. The shimmer of precome was slathered down his shaft, facilitating contact and movement and friction, then Thorin tightened his grip and bobbed his hands swiftly up and down.

“Oh, oh!” Bilbo squirmed and writhed, moving his hips from side to side madly, if only to draw out the pained arousal of deep penetration mingling with tactile stimulation over his erection. He could feel his pulse pounding in his cock, was sure that Thorin could feel it too, and he was close, so very close, just needing that bit more for it to be tipped over into glowing, welcomed orgasm.

“Faster? Do you want that?”

“Faster, fast — oh, gods, fucking — please…oh!” His hands shot to his cock, only to be batted away by Thorin’s own stronger ones. He was inclined to fight Thorin for control over his arousal, if not for how every movement he or Thorin made shifted Thorin’s cock in his arse, striping searing hot sensitiveness into him.

“This is how,” Thorin hissed at him. “I’ll make you — you’ll come for us. For both of us, like this, see?”

Bilbo gripped the mattress so hard that he thought that he might just tear through the sheets. “Yes, yes,” he babbled in reply, twisting about like a creature in the throes of death, which probably wasn’t too far off from the truth. “I — oh, oh yes, Thorin please — please, fuck — what…!”

“Tell me what you like. All of it. What you want me to do to you, here and now.”

Through the aches and the blurs, Bilbo’s mind raced. There was no need to hold back any of it, not anymore. “I want — I want,” he gasped. “Fuck — me. I want you, I want — inside me. Do it, come inside — ah, ah, oh!”

Thorin had ground forward and commenced a slow, earnest fucking. Despite the numbness in his legs, Bilbo knew that he was trembling down there. He was thankful for that — with all this to bear, he would be kicking and fighting outside his wants, battling to ease out of this situation posthaste. Thorin had his hands pressed into the bed and his chest was close to Bilbo’s, the hair on it bristling against Bilbo’s lightly furred chest as he rutted back and forth with wet slaps of sweat-dampened flesh.

“Harder,” Bilbo gritted out. “Harder, Thorin, keep —”

“Fuck,” Thorin cursed. “You — _gods_ …” His hands increased their pace on Bilbo’s cock, encircling and squeezing, sliding and stroking, all while with forceful snaps of his hips.

_“Thorin!”_

The scream finally ripped its way out of Bilbo, once the concurrent sensations from his cock and his arse spiked into his gut and met with a daring clash, uncoiling out into a flare of forceful arousal. He arched beneath Thorin and his frantic breathing transformed into a long, keening note. Semen shot up his belly and coated his chest in thick, gooey ropes, and Bilbo kept sobbing even after Thorin had let go of his cock and dropped down to lick a path on his chest through the tangled belts of come. “Love…oh, oh,” Bilbo murmured, incoherent and hazy. “Love you — love…love —”

“That leaves just me, then,” Thorin whispered to him.

“Come…come,” Bilbo stuttered, speech still beyond him. Sensation is returning to his arms and legs somewhat, although it still all comes secondary to the immensely saturated feeling of full, thick flesh sunk sweetly into his arse. He relaxed around Thorin, only just, then gulped and clenched onto him, hard, as if to draw him deeper in. His hands curled into fists. “Come in me,” he urged, holding Thorin around his torso, bringing him close. Bilbo put his lips at the apple of his throat, exhaling into the thick hair of his beard.

Thorin shuddered. “Gladly.” His voice had turned into something guttural and feral, nothing that Bilbo remembered him ever sounding like. His thrusts came with a renewed vigour to them, and infrequently Thorin’s breathing would break slightly into desperate, almost pleading gasps. He held on to Bilbo’s sides but dug his nails into the bed rather than his skin, as if for dear life. To egg him on, Bilbo kissed him constantly, eliciting a rise in the tempo of the rocking of Thorin’s hips.

“Bilbo —”

“You’re close,” Bilbo breathed. “I can feel you — sense it — some more, come on.”

“I — I —”

“Yes, that’s it, harder, harder!”

Still slightly dulled by the post-orgasmic high, Bilbo drunkenly registered Thorin’s climax as a pulsating sensation and a decidedly full warmth flooding through his insides. Thorin bowed his head and crumpled over Bilbo in a helpless, shuddering mess. He sighed against Bilbo’s face and twisted his head to plant a sloppy, misdirected kiss at his cheek, landing on his ear instead. “Sorry,” he gurgled.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for. Not after that,” Bilbo told him, repositioning his own head to kiss him for real. He was still sticky and wet, not to mention gripping tightly on Thorin’s cock, which was receding inside him but still very large nonetheless.

Thorin muttered something indiscernibly, then felt around for Bilbo’s hand to take it and alternate between kissing and sucking on his fingers. “I love you,” he said.

“That’s good to know,” Bilbo replied, kissing his forehead. Thorin continued to play with his fingers for a while, then drew his body back off Bilbo, making him squawk. “Oh, oh!”

Instantly, Thorin had his face in his hands again and was kissing him apologetically. “Sorry, should have warned you,” he said softly. Carefully, he pulled out as Bilbo guided him, until they were finally laying side by side in bed together.

“That was good,” Bilbo confessed. “I have to admit.”

“You liked that?”

Bilbo winced a bit as a throb rode up his torso. “Still hurts,” he complained.

“That’s typical,” Thorin drawled, splaying a hand over Bilbo’s hipbone to rub at it. “Give it a few days and it should be back to normal.”

“By normal you mean we get to do this again.” Bilbo giggled, feeling absolutely naughty.

Looking at him as though he were mad, Thorin smiled and snickered into his pillow.


End file.
